It’s sometimes hard to describe the unique traditions that take place in New Orleans. It’s sometimes even harder to realize how truly special certain traditions are, because when you grow up doing them, they seem normal, routine. One of my earliest memories is sitting on the linoleum kitchen floor, singing “Mardi Gras Mambo” at the top of my lungs. I remember thinking that the whole world ate king cake, and woke up at the crack of dawn to stake out a good spot for Rex. When I finally realized this wasn’t the case, I felt sad for people in other cities, but at the same time really, really lucky it was the case for me. For me and my city.
One tradition that has always intrigued me is the Second Line. For New Orleanians, second lining is second nature. Nearly any time a group of people gets together, a second line can occur. Funerals. Weddings. Mardi Gras Balls. Impromptu Street Parades. Any occasion worth remembering is an occasion that justifies a good second line. As soon as the first few notes of the song are played, the anticipation is palpable. Excitement washes over you and immediately you jump to your feet, grinning from ear to ear. You grab a handkerchief or napkin, but it’s not for drying tears. It’s for waving jubilantly in the air. At funerals, second lining celebrates life. At weddings, it celebrates new beginnings. At Mardi Gras, it celebrates pride of being born in the greatest city on earth.
Perhaps that’s why it’s fitting that on Mardi Gras weekend this year, Stew and I took part in the most important second line of our lives...
...and we haven't stopped celebrating since.
Baby Stewzie: Due 11-13-11 !!!
